


Friends With Benefits (Keanu Reeves x Reader Series) Chapter 11

by ficsnroses



Series: Friends With Benefits (Keanu Reeves x Reader Series) [11]
Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Canadian Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, Consensual Sex, F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25757236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsnroses/pseuds/ficsnroses
Summary: What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.
Relationships: Keanu Reeves/Reader, Keanu Reeves/You
Series: Friends With Benefits (Keanu Reeves x Reader Series) [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677169
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	Friends With Benefits (Keanu Reeves x Reader Series) Chapter 11

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter XI ~ Three Daggers.
> 
> Warnings : lots of angst, nsfw mentions. 
> 
> Notes : Buckle in friends, it’s a bumpy ride from here on out. Chapter 12 will be the end of this fic and I’m already crying thinking of it. It’s been loads of fun! As always, please please do leave feedback, anonymous or not :) your words are what make it all worth it.
> 
> Chapter 10 Recap : As Keanu stands outside Y/N’s door, after seeing Matt walk out of her apartment, they both stand in silence, unsure of how to feel. Through thick tension, a series of flashbacks reveal how Keanu and Y/N’s relationship began, and what events lead things to become as messy as they are now. Finally, they decide to talk about the unspoken feelings and things that have been going on between them.

**x**

“ _Did you sleep with him?_ ” He stills, expression strained and down casted stare piercing knives at the floor below. His arms rest heavy by his sides, dread of the coming words churn in his stomach; the fire burns in his belly.

“ _Excuse me?_ ” You return, arms crossing, stance collective.

“Please.” His lip quivers so slight, _gravelled_ , assertion coated tone less than willing to beat around the bush. “Just answer me, Y/N.” 

Your eyes still, connected to his that finally, momentarily find yours. You stay silent for a moment long, and the words that come haunt him. Haunt him before they’ve even settled, had time to absorb in the depths of his train wrecked realization. “Yes _._ I did.”

**_The first dagger_ ** _._

You’ve spent enough nights with his manhood curled inside your legs, to know. Far too many evenings with his fingers dipped inside you; lapping, _delighting_ the honey that seeped just for him.

You know him. And despite you desperately trying to forget,

He knows you. He knows you all too well.

The heaviness to the room suffocates you, claws away at each anticipation scorched crevice of your mind. A resigned silence has fallen across the atmosphere, the mere tick of the clock in the distant kitchen corridors filling the gaping holes. Time moves slow. For the first time, you both stand. You’re both here. You’re here, where nothing but words will heal. Nothing but words will suffice. And when you need them most, when you finally need them, they hinder. They’ve gone. They feel far too heavy, and his shoulders seem far too frail.

For the first time you see, Keanu seems, far too,

frail.

_**You feel heavy, weighed down. Open your mouth. Let the truth exist somewhere other than inside your body. Let the words that were made just for him,**_

_**find him.** _

A candle burns to the right, set on the wooden oaky coffee table. His favourite scent, something he’d left behind. Attention remains focused on the flickering flame as you continue to observe him from your spot, wondering, _desperately_ scraping to know what thoughts seared his mind. What reveries he wondered, if he’d just reply. If he’d just _talk_.

His eyes scan the floor; you know there’s a brew fizzing inside his mind. Much to your disappointment, his cocoa kissed hair falters in hues; strands, long and lengthy seem matted, messier than usual. He hadn’t been keeping firm care of himself as usual,

You fear you’re the reason. That you did this to him, when all you wanted was to ease the burn. To do the better for the _both_ of you.

You’d nearly gotten comfortable in the silence that loomed, almost forgotten that a storm was coming. It was bound to. So sudden, to the gravel of his tone, your chest tightens in guard. Defence.

“I thought you only sleep with me.” He starts, voice heavy, rid of that certain uniqueness it normally held for you. That gentle softness that usually shone. Perhaps it was still there, hidden in the grim shadows.

Perhaps your morphed mind refused to acknowledge it. Refused to remember, to confess that he’d always been far too good. Too good to deserve what you’d done. The way you both let it be. “Why does it matter?” You ask lowly, barely returning. The words have seemed to die in your throat before fully falling out; as if they never truly wanted to be heard by him. As if they saw right through you.

“Because. I thought that was our thing.” He reasons, tone firm, defensive in return. Crinkled lines of stress embroider his outer eyes, and you feel your insides plunge at the sight.

Your eyes narrow before a slight defence rings your voice, jaw tightening to his confidence. “Since when do we have _a thing_?”

The lines to his forehead firm, and his spine unravels in a firmer stance. To his jaw’s signal, his heavy head turns so slightly, taking in the words of your return. He’s stunned, upset, disappointed, irate, a cocktail of all negative emotions that had been crawling to the surface as of late. The emotions he’d swallowed down, allowed to burn inside just to have _you_ near.

Solely to have you stay, even if it meant it wasn’t in the way he wanted you.

But now, there was none to lose. You’d been in the arms of another man. Let another man touch you the way he thought only his fingers could, allowed another man to taste the sap that seeped from your lips, the honey of your body the way only _he_ should have been allowed.

Was he being selfish? He wonders, he ponders. But it burns. The burn triumphs, yet again. “We do, Y/N. Are you doing to deny everything?” he asks, thick hearted. “Everything we did?”

“What do you mean.” You release, the pricks of the sentence taking form of a statement more than a question. “We are- _were_ in it for the benefits. Just sex, Keanu. Those were your words.” Your head lowers for a moment, collecting the words you needed him to hear. The defence you needed to fend. “ ** _You_** _don’t_ get to decide what I do and don’t do. You do not control me.” Your teeth almost grit, lip bitten with affirmation. “ _You_ don’t get to decide who I can be with.”

The feeling persists as you try to blink it away slowly, little by little, desperately striving to keep your vomit of words from yelping out. It’s become much, far too much. The blades are cutting, sinking into your flesh.

“I get that.” Keanu waves off, understanding, sympathetic almost. His persona stays, yet seems to melt away in the same breath. Softer, milder tones hue his voice, and his words fall warmer. Warmer than the cold he’d been spitting thus far.

Yet, it’s funny how now, they _feel_ colder.

Despite the sound, they’re piercing into each of your built up, sorrowed seams. They’re real. They’re true. “Y/N, you came to me. You wanted this. I understand that I too let it get this way, I too agreed.” Milder, softer, _heavier_. “But what you _don’t_ have the right to do, is walk out on me when it’s convenient for you. You don’t get to decide when you want me and when you don’t.”

He bleeds, he too, bleeds. From this close, he looks tired, prominent bags shadow cast under his eyes, stabbing your veins with guilt. “Maybe it was my fault for letting you come back and chip away at me. For wanting you still every single time you came and went.” His words prove sharp, the sharp scalpels you’d never thought you’d hear pour from him. Despite great efforts, your eyes fall weaker and weaker to each word, each vowel, each syllable of his tenor. “Do you think it was easy for me, Y/N? When you disappeared for a week without a word? I was a mess, Y/N. I was ruined thinking I did something to hurt you. _You_ made me feel that.”

 ** _The second dagger_**.

“We had something. Don’t you _dare_ take that away from me and don’t you dare stand there and tell me we didn’t. It was never just sex, Y/N.” He feels your heavy stare, the way your eyes flicker with something so unfamiliar. As if the flip of a button, the tension between your aggravated bodies shifts, thickens, feels as if something that was _never_ meant to flourish between you and him.

“We were…we were more. _You_ were more.” He exhales, slow and sad. “You were never just midnight relief for me,” Cringing, he waves off a heavy palm to the sour words, his face scrunched to the thought of you thinking you were ever just physical need for him. Ever just sex. “You were– you _are_ a friend. Perhaps my dearest friend.” His words sear. They _do_ hurt. Shackled with dread. You are, chained. Held. Composed of nothing but pure, utter, hurt.

He stands there, and even through the ice of his speech, it’s still _him_. Still that sliver of hope you’d always held, that dearest comfort in tumbling darkness. Even today, in the scorching gray, he still felt like home. And that was the worst part; home. Being torn, _fraying_ away from you.

You wish he was still human, still something normal. You don’t remember when you started looking at him,

and seeing _poetry_. A beautiful verse, a well rehearsed lyric, a symphony you remember lipping your tongue.

His words are breaking you, killing you softly. Something surfaces, something you so desperately didn’t want to, but it does. Guard.

_**;The poisons in our mouths burn holes in our tongues; our cheeks.**_

The same guard that had perhaps been breaking you thus far. The same guard that made you leave. The same defence that refused to acknowledge out loud that he **_was_** more. That he **_was_** the one who kept you up at night, the one that crossed your mind each waking of the morning, each dusk of the night. You’d swore the joints in your neck creak when you slant up to the gray ceiling, and the ache at your right temple pounds harder, your veins course with something so icy, so frozen; an agonizing groan barely surfaces before your fingers mould along your temples, the words falling off your lips to an appalling mutter. “No, no, no, **_no_**.”

And that’s why you lie. You part your lips,

and _lie_.

“Keanu!” you almost cry, bones aching, chest hefty and heart pouring. You’re drained, exhausted, the conversation has turned darker than anticipated. The sharp edges only cut further. “ _We’re no good for each other_. We aren’t and we never were.” A slight frown contorts your features.

These words, this stream of misery; you know they’re hurting him too. You know he’s hurting. You’re hurting him.

But they must be spoken. They must be shared. This thread that holds you bound, this cord that draws you back must be shred. Must be broken. It’s what he needs. What you both need.

By now, the river had flowed too far; the water rose far too deep.

By now, if he’d be a part of you still, you fear you won’t be able to settle. You want one hundred percent of him, in the way lovers do. True lovers; the equities that come farther than physical connection. You want all of him, but you fear he won’t be able to give that part of him. Won’t be able to give you _more_. Just how much more you _needed._ And so you suffer, you writhe, and you ache some more as the words fall. You fight back sorrow as the façade falls.

A river flows from your mouth, falls, pelts, cascades. The substitute of tears, your eyes won’t bare hold. “You were my first friend, my only friend when I came here.” You sympathize. “Of course you were more, Keanu. You weren’t just a quick fuck for me when I needed one, so don’t you dare accuse me of it.” A faint frown lingers to the planes of your face, and your eyes grow something worse than sad. Something full of pure, utter, _melancholy_. “We made a huge mistake and you know it, Ke.” Confessing, you watch the way his muscles tense under his signature black jacket.

He’s suffering. You’re _killing_ him.

“We both have issues, and we both have problems.” The ugly truth ultimately falls. But perhaps, you shouldn’t have shed light on it. Shouldn’t have dug up, _salted_ old wounds. “Did we _really_ think sex would fix that?” The truth hurts. It’s sinking daggers into your flesh by each word. You’d never been one to show weakness, yet to him, you let all the vulnerability fall. All the weaknesses that allowed you to get this way. “We made a mistake. And it’s best we just move on.”

There, in his eyes today, right now, you swore you saw something you’d never seen before.

He’s always been admirable, reserved, but confident. Something about him always seemed collected, as if he’d got the entire world figured out and had came to terms with whatever it had to offer. He held poise, self-reliance.

But today- the emptiness inside your chest throbs and your fingers nimble under his intense stare. He doesn’t speak for prolonged moment, only stays,

numb.

Something in him died today. Something felt like withered flowers and caved ruins.

It’s unsettling to see such a sight before your eyes, to see a _mountain_ before you disintegrate, yet refuse to acknowledge it. Eerie, soul crushing discomfort. You saw it in him,

but felt it in you.

Somehow, these things of his, always come back to you. To haunt you.

Keanu blinks slowly, coming back to the present as his head returns. His thoughts flow, rugged, anything but the usual smooth his collected demeanor was used to. ** _It doesn’t matter to her, everything we did_**. These thoughts, these words, these feelings; they bubbled. **_She thinks we’re a mistake_**. Boiled, churned, gasped to be let out. These words needed liberation. Needed to be free.

 ** _Does she not remember?_** He wonders, he ponders. **_How could she forget?_**

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick–_

Even the ticking of the clock in the distant kitchen seems to drown out, seems to fade away unfinished. A heaviness still suffocates the room; feelings still remain trapped inside the depths of your confined hearts. The silence stretches on, the seconds, prolonged moments of quiet rack and add up, and so does your unease.

His expression carefully falters, devoid of anything that shows how utterly hopeless he continues to fall with each jab you take at him. Something so unreadable. Unreadably broken.

He drains too. His silence hurts.

More than the words you’re spewing; the words that cut, slowly slaughter your souls in a gritting slay. Your own eyes crumble, grip tightening in a balled fist similar to the grip that contorts your aching heart.

You feel disgust rip through yourself like a lightening bolt, the pain comes in shooting bolts piercing

Sharp.

Shrill.

It’s slipping through his fingers. **_It’s all slipping far too quickly_**.

“Y/N,” Keanu mumbles, urgent yet soft. Heavy voice weighted, plead drowned tone _piercing_ , _like lightening_. “You-”

He tries again to talk, yet it proves too much. The way he speaks kills you, it’s murdering you cut by cut. It’s impossible to stomach the look on his face.

 _Dagger by dagger_. You’re not strong enough. This mountain you carry on your tongue, in your bones, deep in each crevice of your physical self; it holds too much history, too much vulnerability. This love that laces in each of your veins for him; if it escapes, and the words kiss his skin, into his ears; you fear it won’t be enough. That it wont turn out the way you’ve dreamt all along.

And that’ll be the end. That’ll butcher you for good.

That will be the death of **you**.

“ _No_ , Keanu.” You voice, head shaken gently to a downcast defeat below. You see him tense, back leaned against the gray hallway wall.

Defeat. 

You’ve both defeated each other today. Both sunk the needles exactly where it hurts the most.

_**;Taking throws at the most vulnerable parts of each other. We’re like fingers on thorns of honey;**_

_**we know exactly where it hurts.** _

Ambling up beside his larger frame, you position adjacent; _so close to him_ , where you’d feel lightening in your heart each time you reminisce on being _._ When you think back to the times when he was this close. When he won’t be anymore.

The hard wall feels cold against your skin, both your eyes intent on the surroundings, anywhere but on each other. Slow, quiet, you sigh a beaten exhale, eyes momentarily shutting to ease the heaviness for _just_ one moment. He slumps, unable to hold the weight of his own two feet much longer. “ _No_.” You mumble, you mutter. You force your tongue to move. Sick to the stomach. It churns inside, the brew of pain, hurt, defeat, _agony_. The fall in your eyes intensifies, covered by a gloss of realization.

This was it.

_This would be it._

Dense, heavy, you glide. Your back slides down the hallway wall as your knees give out, falling to an upright seat on the floor below. Legs crossing with your hands positioned neat in your lap, weary shoulders slump; and your eyes find Keanu’s standing tall above you. Patting the spot beside you with one heavy thump, you sigh.

He swallows thick, before gliding down as well.

falling, falling, falling.

There, in the quiet walls, you sit together. Insides burning, hearts twisting. _Falling._

The silence endures, your tired hearts rest. Overpowered, overwhelmed, you sit together.

_**;I’m erasing you from my skin.**_

“Keanu,” you begin, empathizing; limbs limp with exhaustion. “I can’t be with you anymore. I just can’t. It’s draining, it’s _exhausting_.”

**_The third_ **

**_dagger._ **

And this one, would hurt in him constantly. Would burn in him endlessly.

Your every word is cruel. Brutally candid; straightforward. Each and every syllable, each vowel, each ring _tears_ something inside him expertly, like deliberately unhurried knives; merciless daggers sinking in deep.

Keanu’s mind wanders still, the words he so desperately wanted to say to you _still_ bubbling. The conversation hadn’t played out how he planned. This was not what he had planned. This is not what the hopes he came with wrote. The burn is so rugged, so intense, and the words fight to come out. They fight to be heard by you. Fight to save your sinking ship.

But they don’t. they ultimately don’t. They still in his throat. They dissolve in his throat.

He couldn’t put himself out there for you to break down again. Couldn’t hand himself over to you again, only to be destroyed, yet again.

His features falter, realization seeps into his bones. In these moments, everything, each second seems so fragile, so precious.

- _She’s slipping away far too quickly_ -

_She’s slipped away;_

_She’s gone._

Keanu’s head falls back, hitting the wall behind you both with an audible thud. He nods gently with a hefty respire, eyes closing for a brief moment. Slain.

Slow and wounded, he removes himself from your side, standing on his own two somnolent legs. The air around has only darkened, except now, there’s no piercing. No lightening, no bolting.

Just flat, dry, unforgiving air.

He stands tall above you, yet your body stays positioned below on the ground. You can’t seem to move, can’t seem to rise. Can’t seem to rise up from the small. From the low.

From the feeling of low.

Staring up, your eyes lock with his as he begins sincerely, head shaking. The phantom, the _ghost_ of him leans above you, looming over with guilt ridden, shattered realization.

He begins, apologizing. “I promise, all I wanted was to help. Not to make it worse.” Thick cut sadness, gloom glazes each word. He’d come with so much hope; he’d come to you confident he’d get it right. That this time, he’d hold you for good.

With nothing, he’d be leaving. Nothing but haunting memories of the sweetest love, that never worked. The ghost of a love he’d lost, without ever really having it.

“I care about you so much.” He tells, one last time. “I’m sorry if I said anything out of line. You’re an amazing woman, Y/N. I still admire you and all the success you’ve earned since you came here.”

Gray. It’s all falling gray. The murals of a once bright and crimson passion; a once rosy friendship, a yellow hope. All grayed.

“I still wish you nothing but the best. You deserve it.” He finishes, a gentle nod and half attempted smile your way. A haunting smile, that would forever remain carved inside your brain. The smile of the heart you _slaughtered_.

And for a moment; you think, maybe you loved him, in another lifetime. And maybe you promised you’d find him on the other side.

 _On the other side_ – and maybe that’s why you can’t seem to escape him, to let him go.

But today, he is going. He’s leaving for good.

Today, it felt as if the flowers beheaded themselves; the sun burnt to the ground. He’d take them away with him, with each drowning step he took.

 _He won’t come back_ ; the whispers of your crying thoughts linger.

 _He **has** to_; the weeps of your heart undertone.

And you wonder, that perhaps you don’t deserve good things. Because this, watching him leave with your heart crucified to his chest, felt as if punishment. Punishment for sins you don’t even remember committing.

He shakes his head one last time, before his back turns. Turns to you, leaves you behind as he begins to move away, toward the bulky front door. He’d bid his goodbyes, wished his farewells.

He _is_ the one that got away. And maybe, the one who comes after him; if one ever will; will remind you of how it was always supposed to be. The mistakes that were never meant to be made.

~They will taste like the poetry; you wish you could’ve composed.

For from today, blue skies would fade gray, the birds would cease to sing. The flowers would never live again, and the burn would maybe subside to nothing, but, gray. You will stay empty, stay longing for what he gave you.

The corridors of each room will be empty; and nothing makes the room feel emptier than longing for someone to be in it. And long you would. Knowing the man you love would be gone for good.

And even after all this pain, all this hurt,

His body is still the only one you want to be undressed under.

His weight is the only one you want resting beside you at your most vulnerable, at your worst.

The daggers have been thrown. The wounds have been carved.

“ ** _Stop_** saying things like that to me.” Sudden, your voice cracks from below. You’d been unsure of how the word had even escaped, plummeted out, fearing no barrier. As if your pulsing heart’s last attempt to ease the agony, to stop him. They’d fallen out, leaving your mind little to fend your guard with.

He halts in his tracks, merely turning in his steps to lock you a surrendered gaze. **_Why?_** his pleading orbs beg, wondering what more could be left to said. Head shaking, with his lips pursing tight and taut to a thin line, he stands with his arms side by side, eyes coursing into your soul.

Wondering. What you would say.

“ _Stop_ saying things like that to me. Things that make me feel like you’re the only good I’ll ever have.” You barely manage, swallowing thick, dense, pure anguish. Gaze faltering, you eye the floor below, unable to lock stare with him just yet. You whisper, audible yet to his ears with an ultimate connect to his earthy orbs; your own filling with seared, stinging wet sheen.

And the words that would fall from your lips from there on out-

Could **_never_** be taken back.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴


End file.
